


The Blood-Dimmed Tide is Loosed

by Musings_of_a_Monster



Category: Captain America (Movies), MCU
Genre: Gen, Original Character-centric, Slight internalized ableism, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musings_of_a_Monster/pseuds/Musings_of_a_Monster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Operation Insight is attempted, SHIELD has fallen with its HYDRA parasite. And Trinity Phung lies in a hospital bed, her whole world upended.<br/>She gets a phone call.</p><p>Or, how do blindsided SHIELD employees deal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood-Dimmed Tide is Loosed

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the poem "The Second Coming" by W.B. Yeats. Because I'm melodramatic like that.  
> The actual order of the words that make up this story and Phung are mine. Everything else is not.

            Trinity Phung was drawn out of her thoughts when the phone rang. In no particular hurry, she reached over and picked up. “This is Agent Phung,” she managed not to sound as low as she felt, which was something. She’d never been particularly keen on answering with the title of _agent_ before, but now that it was being ripped away from her, she wanted it. Go figure.

            “ _Hey, Trinity_?” Phung went cold at the voice, then hot. “ _It’s Steve_ —”

            “Steve!” Phung said with more enthusiasm than she’d said anything since her fall. “I heard about how you nailed those HYDRA sons of bitches!”

            “ _Uh, yeah. I helped_.” Modest as ever, but he actually sounded mildly surprised. “ _I heard you were in the hospital, and you were arrested? Have you been released_?”

            Phung sighed, or growled, even she wasn’t entirely certain, “Yeah. All STRIKE agents were. Lot of double agents. But the info Romanov released cleared that up. That took ’nads. Remind me to buy her a drink some time.”

            “ _Will do_ ,” Steve sounded like he was smiling, but sobered up, “ _I—how are you_?”

            “Damage?” Phung suggested, “Couple stab wounds. One compound fracture, right arm, of course. A few hairline factures from my ribs to my pelvis.” She took a breath, but tried to say as coolly as possible (and maybe overshot), “I… actually got lucky. Really lucky. They fucked up my back. Almost paralyzed me. But didn’t.”

            Steve was silent for half a moment, “ _Wow. Hey, could I come see you? I could get your room number from the desk_.”

            “No,” Phung said this with a firmness that actually surprised her. She clarified, “It’s nothing personal, I mean, I appreciate the offer, I just haven’t showered in forever and I’m totally gross.”

            “ _Ah, I guess you want some time with your family_?”

            “Yeah, you understand, right?”

            “ _I would_ ,” Steve said carefully, “ _If your brother hadn’t called me earlier. He was concerned, because you’re not taking visitors_.” When Phung didn’t speak for several seconds, he said, “ _Trin_?”

            “…Rogers, I just… I’m kinda…”

            “ _Having an identity crisis_?”

            She barked a laugh, “Yeah. Lot of things have changed. And I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

            “ _You don’t have to figure it out on your own_.”

            “Actually…” Phung thought about the stab wounds and the place her ulna burst through the skin and thought about how they would heal. Almost certainly with scar tissue devoid of pigment and glaringly obvious against surrounding sorrel. For the first time in years, she felt a brief flash of hatred for her vitiligo. She took a deep breath, and tried not to think of her spine. “I might.”

            “ _Trin_ —”

            “Stop,” Phung said, firmly but not unkindly, “Rogers, Steve—You know, I kind of pride myself in being able to be the calmest person in the room. Because that took time and skill to develop. Because it was—it _is_ —the only way I could get anywhere in our line of work. Because if I get emotional, it’s suddenly because I’m black or a woman or a black woman. Because I don’t get to be anything but perfectly composed. And right now, I’m not. And I’ll be damned if I let myself be seen like this. Can you _begin_ to understand?”

            “… _Yeah. Yeah, I think so. But just—just know I’m here, okay? Not because you’re a woman or anything but because you’re a soldier, and because you’re_ Trinity Phung _. My co-worker and my friend. And this is selfish of me, but you know there’s not many left in either of those categories and even fewer in both. So I really don’t want to lose anyone I have left_.”

            Phung smiled, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

            “ _One more thing though_?” Steve took the following silence as assent, “ _I have a friend who works with shell-shocked veterans_.” After a moment he added, “ _He’s also black. If that helps_.”

            Phung erupted into laughter and took a good fifteen seconds to pull it together, “Is he cute?”

            “ _Yes, very_.”

            “How can I say no to that? Give me a week to clear my head, and maybe squeeze in a shower.”

            “ _Alright_ ,” Steve was smiling again, Phung could tell, “ _Take care, Trin_.”

            “You too, Steve. Good luck with whatever the hell is going on out there.”

            “ _Thanks_.” Before he hung up, Phung thought she heard him say, “ _I’ll need it_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why an African American has the last name Phung, you should know she's biracial. She identifies as both African American and Vietnamese American. Again, I must learn to interweave these details into the actual stories. I'm working on it.


End file.
